The Black Abyss
by Towa-no-Yami
Summary: Title subject to change if I can come up with something better Erm, just some random drabble-y piece I wrote. Wolfram-centric, talking about his feelings when he was growing up and how that affected his life.


**Disclaimer: I do not own Kyou Kara Maou (which I forgot to say last time, please don't sue me)**

**Warnings: Slight shonen-ai, yuuram but nothing even close to explicit or anything, more just implied.**

A black abyss, wide and gaping, constantly clawing at the edges of the valley to gain more territory in the frail heart it encompassed. Day by day it grew broader, longer, deeper, a malignant tumour sure to cause undeniable pain in the one whom it inhabited.

It seemed that nothing could fill this void. It would grow and grow until it ate at all the space inside the young boy's heart, devouring all warmth and goodness of which the vital organ should be fabricated and leaving behind a hollow shell.

For eighty-two years this chasm had been achieving its goal. It had advanced almost to the outer rims of the lonely prince's heart, leaving his once bright beacon merely a lost flicker, drowned in the darkness that his own negativity was creating.

He was to become a soldier, he could not ask for help. A soldier is always to know how to handle any situation, and most importantly himself, at all times.

How could he explain to anyone the aching loneliness that consumed his heart? How could he find someone to reach out to when his mother was too busy ruling a country, his elder brother was often away fighting in the frequent skirmishes on the border, and his other brother was a liar?

The answer was: he couldn't.

With no one to guide him through his trauma, he found solace only in making himself as busy as his family, hoping that by doing so he could, as they did, escape from other aspects of his life.

His childhood long gone whilst he remained at a tender age, the blonde grew up quickly and divulged himself in matters that most felt were inappropriate for such a young mind to be exposed to. He studied politics and national history, sword fighting and controlling his element and made sure he never had any spare time. Spare time was a waste used only to contemplate on one's feelings, the exact problems that the young prince was trying to avoid. As a result of this, all of his spare time was taken up with the mastery of other things, most often classical instruments.

His favourite was the piano. The majestic craftsmanship of said instrument was always dazzling to his young mind and stunned him almost as much as the beauty of the music that was produced by such a magnificent piece of artwork. As a child the prince spent a lot of his time honing his seemingly natural talent for this instrument. He played for hours in concession between his studies; never stopping for fear that he could not return.

The piano was an outlet of emotions for the troubled youth, a way of dispelling the oncoming darkness for a few more hours. Nothing could describe the way his emerald eyes shone in the dank and musty room as he sat on the stool for hours reciting his favourite pieces, constantly challenging himself to become better. The life that was missing from those eyes was evident as his elegant fingers gracefully caressed the keys, never missing a beat in the beautiful music that was produced.

The blonde savoured those times he spent at his piano.

Gradually, as the prince grew up, his life became busier. The spare time, that he had loathed so much before finding his muse, was suddenly snatched away from him, and the countless joys he felt when playing could no longer be experienced.

The years passed in this manner and the darkness in his heart encroached at an increasingly alarming rate. The blonde forgot all about those childhood hours wistfully spent at a piano. The music became just a distant, faded memory in the archives of his eighty-two years of life.

Until one day he met a particularly strange individual. Strewn from his horse with all the grace of a tap-dancing hippo, the teenage male sat rubbing his behind, his long, black bangs just failing to hide his equally black and even more stunning eyes. The blonde wanted to scold him, to remind him of the basic etiquette required of anyone on the grounds of the royal castle, but he couldn't.

The obsidian-haired youth looked up at him from the ground with those sparkling pools of midnight water, a sheepish smile placed on his gentle features, and the blonde's mouth dried up, his words seemingly shooting to the back corners of his mind. He was frozen in whatever actions he was leading up to, his pale lips eliciting an almost silent gasp at the innocence he saw on this boy's face. He didn't belong in the land of mazoku, the land of demons.

The rest of the afternoon's events became a blur to the prince. Something he'd seen in this boy had flared up a horrible sense of longing deep within him. The light of his doused beacon flared up slightly when he thought of him, the unusual feeling of hope burning in his chest.

The blonde pondered the boy that evening, wordlessly pacing back and force in his room desperately trying to discover what the sense of yearning meant. What was he forgetting? Giving up, he decided to take a bath, hoping the hot water and the steam could clear his head of these unprecedented thoughts.

Making his way towards the bath, the blonde stumbled across a dimly lit corridor with a single door at the end, the never-ending passageway seemingly stretching out to the farthest reaches of the castle. His interest piqued, the prince slowly stumbled down the deserted corridor that was seemingly forgotten by the maids long ago. His eyes adjusting to the darkness that the space offered, he could just about make out two large, elegant doors of mahogany and great grandeur at the end of the long passage. He did not understand what it was that drew him to this space in the first place, all he knew was that his feet were carrying him there and he was not at liberty to argue with their authority over his mind at the time.

Eventually, he reached the doors. Stopping dead in his tracks in front of them, he raised his head at a painful angle to admire the painstaking detail that the carver had worked into these magnificent pieces of wood. His hand moved of its own accord to tug at the giant brass knob that allowed entry to the room that lay hidden behind these grand masterpieces.

As his mind was overtook with nostalgia that his brain could not comprehend, the prince pulled open the doors and was met a billowing plume of dust particles, hindering his ability to see what lay inside the vast chamber. His feet once again taking authority, he stepped into the room, coughing violently at the choking dust that immediately filled his lungs. Scanning the huge threshold his eyes suddenly caught sight of something in the distance, something he knew all too well. He moved forward at a quickening speed, his mind flooding with memories of his childhood, his loneliness, his determination and his true love for the arts, as he finally came to a halt at a beautifully decorated grand piano.

His left hand swept out immediately to stroke the smooth surface of the veneered wood, leaving a small trail of upturned dust behind his fingers. He silently moved to sit on the soft stool stationed in front of the piano, the furniture serving both its intended purpose and another, as a never moving sentinel guarding the childhood hopes and dreams of a young and fragile boy.

Lifting the protective casing that covered the keys, emerald orbs surveyed the ivory in front of him. His hands once again reached out without his permission and gently pressed on the three keys in rapid succession. Before he knew it, the prince was playing his favourite piece from his youth. The notes flooded to the front of his memory as his fingers glided gracefully from key to key, producing a beautiful melody that warmed the soul.

The hungry chasm receded in the presence of such music, the fragile heart of a lonely child refilling with warmth and happiness that had been lost for years. The prince's heart once again became bright, a shining beacon for the whole world to see, penetrating the smothering dimness that filled the dank music room. It had been so long since the blonde had felt so happy; it felt like so long since he had felt anything at all.

A dazzling smile graced those soft, pink lips as his rendition of the piece came to a gentle halt. His emerald eyes had filled with life again, the spark of a re-ignited spirit showing defiantly in them. He stood up and left as he had came but something was significantly different. He left the room in utter silence, his footsteps not even echoing around the cave-like room but the blonde knew that things were going to change.

From that point on he was a different person. His eyes constantly carried that spark of life and he would never let go of it. However, over eighty years worth of damage cannot be fixed over night. The prince found it difficult to show his emotions and, seeing as how they had been bottled up from when he was a child, they often came out in fits of immature anger, leading the people closest to him to see him as a brat.

The blonde never forgot what it was that had sparked this new behaviour of his. That boy with the innocent face turned out to be his king and pretty quickly his fiancé. The bratty prince stuck to his affianced, thinking that without him near he may revert to his old ways of bottling things up. The king was a wimp, and an infuriating one at that, but that was what made him so special. Even when he was feeling like his old self again the black-haired boy would do something so dim-witted that he couldn't hold in his reprimands. But the boy would always just flash him that innocent, sincere smile, that one that held no negative feelings and knew no pain, and the prince would melt.

He found himself unable to let go of this boy. This boy warmed his heart to the very core and even when he was scolding him for being foolish he felt happy; he could always make him feel alive again. Emotions that he didn't understand ran throughout his body at the sight of the double-black, emotions that ran deep within his veins.

Was it love? He couldn't say. Could love really blossom from an unintended engagement? He'd just have to wait and see…

**Hmm, I'm not really too sure what to say about this piece. I was just sitting bored with nothing to do and started typing, which is weird because I usually do a written copy first, and this is the result. I hope you enjoyed it, it's kind of drabble seeing as it seems to me to be really mismatched and all over the place.**

**Well, I don't know. Please let me know what you thought. Whether you liked it or hated it I don't mind because I have no idea why I wrote this. Also, I'd love some constructive criticism. Thanks for reading!**


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